Mr Thankful
by AJWSPJS1
Summary: After a bad run, Johnny's bizarre behavior ricochets through both Station 51 and Rampart as Roy tries to figure out what's wrong with his partner.


Mr. Thankful

I leaned back against my locker and watched my partner, John Gage, mopping the floor. I figured by now he would be ready to talk and expected him to come find me like he usually does. But he didn't. So of course, I came to him. "You want to tell me what's going on?"

Johnny paused and looked up at me with a blank look. "Huh?"

"You've been silent since we got back to the station. You want to talk about that last run?"

"Oh. No," he said. He dipped the mop into the bucket, swished it around, wrung it out, and continued mopping in such perfect arcs that alarm signals started firing through my brain.

"Are you sure you don't want to go through that last run?" I asked him.

"No, Roy. I'm okay. I know I did the best I could. I'm just trying to concentrate on what I'm doing. That's all."

"You're concentrating on…mopping the floor? Because it's such an intricate task?"

A strange look crossed Johnny's face when I said that. He put the mop in the bucket. "No. I was just trying to focus on what I was doing. But now, you have my total attention. By the way, you look good today."

I expected bizarre topics, comments, and attitudes from my partner. But him telling me I looked good? That was too strange, even for Johnny. I pushed away from the locker and walked toward him, slowly, so I didn't spook him. "I look—"

"Good," he said. "Healthy. Your face has a lot of color and, oh, you put a nice shine on your shoes today."

While a part of my brain was busy dealing with his bizarre comments, another part ran through the last run until my brain screeched to a halt. I'd lost commo with him when the plane fell. It could have happened then. "Let me take a look at you," I said.

Taking his arm, I steered him to the bench and urged him to sit down. "Did you hit your head on that last run when the plane dropped? Do you feel dizzy at all?"

"Roy, I'm fine. I didn't hit my head and I don't feel dizzy. Nothing is wrong with me."

"Everyone knows there's something wrong with you," Chet said, rounding the corner. "It probably happened when you were dropped on your head the day you were born."

Johnny's face lit up. "Chet, it's great to see you."

I almost fell over. Johnny actually said something nice to Chet, without being forced, and looked like he meant it.

Chet tossed Johnny a suspicious look, then asked me, "What's wrong with him?"

"There's nothing wrong, Chet. But thank you, the both of you, for being so concerned about me."

Chet took a step back and looked at me, this time with real concern. "Wow! Want me to go get Cap?"

"Cap? He's best Captain in the entire department," Johnny said. "I'm honored to be working with him."

I froze and so did Chet. Johnny's head swiveled back and forth between us as if waiting to be told what to do next.

"Yeah, I'll get Cap," Chet finally said. On his way past me he muttered, "I'll grab a straight-jacket too."

I turned my attention back to Johnny. Taking out my penlight I checked his pupils. Both were equal and reactive. "Any headaches? Blurred vision?"

He smiled at me. _Smiled_! Normally if I asked Johnny questions like that he'd deny, deny, deny…even if he was bleeding like a stuck pig and answering questions to the me standing three feet to the right of where I was actually standing.

"Roy, there's nothing wrong with me. But if it will make you happy, you're welcome to take my vitals. I'm sure they're all normal."

Okay, there was something _definitely_ wrong with my partner. I ran my hands lightly through his hair and gently over his scalp. I didn't feel any lumps or cuts. "Do you remember when you hit your head?" I asked, trying to trick him into admitting that he had.

"I didn't hit my head, Roy," he said.

Captain Stanley pushed open the door and came in, closely followed by Chet. "Roy, what's going on?" he asked.

"I don't know, Cap."

"Good morning, Cap. It's great to see you again," Johnny said as if 30 years, not 30 minutes, had passed since he'd last seen Cap. "I consider it an honor to work with you."

Chet whistled and twirled his finger at his temple. "See, Cap? He's acting like a total looney-tune."

I have to give Captain Stanley some credit, he didn't seem surprised at Johnny's behavior. He just said, "Thank You, Johnny," but then he looked right at me and asked, "Roy, you two heading to Rampart?"

It sounded more like a statement than a question, and all things considered, I thought it was a great idea. "I'd like to check his vitals first," I said, watching Johnny, hoping he'd blow up at me like he normally does whenever I suggest that.

"I'm looking forward to seeing everyone at Rampart," came the mild response that ratcheted up my sense of alarm.

"Chet, set up the equipment by the squad," Cap said.

"Right cap," Chet said. He rushed out as if eager to help, but I knew he was just in a hurry to get the equipment out so that he could high-tail it over to Mike and Marco and let them know what was was going on. Cap followed him out, probably to put us 10-8 to Rampart.

As I guided Johnny out to the bay, he didn't show any signs of unsteadiness, didn't stagger. I urged him to sit him down on the bumper of the squad near to where Chet had set out the biophone, drug box, trauma box, oxygen tank…and the damn OB kit.

"Roy, I don't feel sick, and I'm sure that my vitals are normal," Johnny repeated.

That had me relaxing a little. While it wasn't Johnny's usual prickly objection, it was something more normal than what I'd been seeing. "Humor me."

I opened the biophone, screwed on the antenna, and then grabbed the blood pressure cuff, stethoscope, and thermometer out of the medical kit. I stuck the thermometer in Johnny's mouth.

As I took his pulse and respirations, Chet's voice drifted over from near the kitchen. "He's a total goner. Probably whacked his head."

"Where is he?" Mike asked.

"In the bay. Roy's taking him to Rampart."

Johnny's temperature was normal. Pulse and respirations, normal. I wrote that down then started taking his blood pressure. I heard footsteps and glanced up just as Chet, Mike, and Captain Stanley came around the corner of the squad.

Johnny stood up, ripping the bulb out of my hand, and grinned. "Mike! It's great to see you!"

"See what I mean?" Chet said.

More footsteps then Marco came around the Engine. "Hey, what's going on?"

"Marco! It's great to see you."

"It's great to see you too, Johnny," Marco replied with a smile. He looked at Chet and asked, "What's going on?"

"Him." Chet motioned to Johnny, who I was guiding back down to sit on the squad's bumper. "He's acting crazy. Or didn't you just hear what he said."

Marco looked confused. "Why is being glad to see me crazy?"

Marco had a point.

Johnny smiled at me and patted my forearm. He looked around and said, "This is really wonderful…this show of concern. I'm truly blessed." Then his eyes got sort of…misty.

"Okay now…see?" Chet said looking horrified. "That's just crazy, even for Johnny."

At this unusual display of emotions from a man who'd rather jump off a bridge than let someone see him cry, I felt Johnny's mental condition was rapidly deteriorating. I just couldn't figured out why. "Cap, you want to call for an ambulance?"

"On it, Roy," Cap said, then disappeared back the way he came.

"Chet, what's crazy about feeling blessed?" Johnny asked.

"Johnny's found Jesus," Marco said, crossing himself.

"Or maybe something out of that drug-box," Chet said. "Roy, check his arms."

"Kelly!"

"What? Mike, look at him. He—"

"Why don't you and Marco go and finish mopping the floors?"

"Why don't you go mop it? You're not my boss," Chet said.

"Kelly, I think Mike's suggestion is a great idea," Cap said as he rounded the squad. "And when you get done with that, you can finish the latrines."

"Aww, Cap…"

"Now, Kelly!"

"Come on, Marco."

I'd finished taking Johnny's blood-pressure and grabbed the biophone receiver. "Rampart, this is Squad 51. How do you read?"

"Go ahead, 51," Dr. Early's voice replied after a moment.

"Rampart, we have a male, twenty-four years old. He appears slightly disoriented—"

"Try high as a kite," Chet called from somewhere near the locker room.

"Roy, I don't fell disoriented."

"—Blood pressure is 120/80. Pulse and respirations are normal, temperature is normal, pupils are equal and reactive. Rampart, patient was examined this morning and cleared for duty but he may have a possible head injury—"

"I told you, I didn't hit my head."

"—and is showing signs of stress, alternating with euphoria."

"Like I said, high as a kite," Chet called over.

"Chet!" Captain Stanley said.

"We're going, we're going," Chet called back.

"I'm not feeling any stress," Johnny added. "And when did happiness become a medical problem?"

"Roy, go ahead and start an IV with normal saline, monitor vitals, and transport."

A sense of relief ran through me. Dr. Early trusted my judgment that something was wrong. "Ten-four, Rampart." I looked back at Johnny and he held out his arm to me without another word.

"Mike," Johnny said, "I know I've never told you this out loud but I feel honored to work with you here at 51."

I paused swabbing Johnny's arm and caught the uncomfortable look on Mike's face.

"I know, I know," Johnny continued, "You don't expect compliments from me, but I mean it. And I've never really shown you my thanks so…would you like to have dinner with me?"

I caught myself from jabbing the syringe into Johnny's wrist. Looking at Johnny, I could see he was actually serious. I avoided looking at Mike.

"Dinner sounds great, right Mike?" Captain Stanley said brightly with a loud slap on Mike's back.

Even though I knew Cap was just 'humoring the patient' I decided intervene when Mike didn't answer. "Cap, did you request that ambulance?" I asked, as if I didn't remember.

"It's on the way. Mike, why don't you go show them in, pal," Captain Stanley said with another slap on the back. "Roy, do you need any more help here."

"No, Cap. We're good," I said, giving him an out.

The ride to Rampart was one of the most uncomfortable rides I've ever taken, with any patient, ever. Even though I checked his vitals several times and everything stayed normal, he kept behaving oddly, first thanking me for monitoring his vitals so professionally and moving on to thanking me for everything I'd done for him during our shift. And the staring—he did a lot of staring. That kind of prolonged, direct staring without looking away that made a person uncomfortable. I was ecstatic when we finally reached Rampart.

"Take him into room three," Dixie said as we rounded the corner and came down the hallway.

"Hi'ya, Dix," Johnny said as his gurney rolled by her.

"Hi, Johnny," Dixie said, smiling.

"It's great to see you!"

Like Marco and Cap, Dixie took Johnny's effusive greeting in stride. "It's great to see you too, Johnny." To me she said, "Dr. Early got called into surgery. I'll go get Dr. Brackett."

"You know, "Johnny said as the attendants rolled him into the exam room, "this is great, my not having to walk." The attendants shifted him onto the exam table. "By the way, have I told you both lately how much I appreciate all that you do?"

The attendants looked at him, then looked at me. When I just shrugged, they took their gurney and left.

"Hmm," Johnny said, staring at the door, "obviously I haven't told them lately. I'll have to be more appreciative of them in the future." He swiveled his head over to me. "By the way, have I ever told you that you have a beautiful wife?"

I reminded myself that my partner was sick. He could be suffering from a subdural hematoma, or bruising of the soft tissue of his entire brain, or be suffering from a detached brain stem. Probably very soon. "You're not supposed to tell me that."

"What? Why not?" he said, looking baffled.

As soon as I had a chance, I was going to inventory the drug-box. "That's not something you're supposed to notice."

"I've got eyes, Roy," he said in a patient tone. "Could you let Joanne know that I think she's beautiful? Oh, and could you tell her that her lasagne was great?"

The door swung open and Dr. Bracket saved me from reaching out to choke some sense into my partner.

"Johnny. Roy."

"Doc," I said, my relief obvious.

Dixie came in behind him, grabbed Johnny's chart, and handed it to him.

"Doc, it's so great to see you again!" Johnny said, sounding as if he hadn't seen Dr. Brackett in years.

Dr. Brackett looked up from the chart and stared at Johnny.

"Have I told you what a great doctor and mentor you are?"

Dr. Brackett's eyes narrowed. Yep, that question cinched it. Dr. Brackett realized something was wrong.

"How are you, Johnny?" he asked in that careful way of his.

"Great, Doc! I feel like a million bucks."

Dr. Brackett's head swiveled over to me. "Roy?"

"He's been like this for a little over an hour. Maybe longer," I answered. "Dr. Early checked him out after our last run but—"

"I'm fine, Doc," Johnny said.

"That's good to hear, Johnny," Dr. Brackett said. "Dix, I'm going to need a tox screen, full skull series, and set him up for a CT scan." He approached the exam table, set Johnny's chart down, then began to examine Johnny. Johnny, to his credit, submitted to the exam without another word.

When Dr. Brackett finally finished Johnny said, "I'm okay, Doc, really. I just came because I didn't want Roy to worry. You know how he is," he said.

"Yes, I know." Dr. Brackett stood by quietly while Dixie drew blood, but I could tell by the way he looked that his mind was sifting through possibilities. When the x-ray technical entered, he motioned to me. "Roy, can I speak to you outside? Johnny, I'll be back after your x-rays and CT scans are done."

"Okay, Doc. I appreciate that. Thank you. And Dixie? Thanks for taking my blood."

No sooner did we step into the corridor than I heard, "Roy! Roy!"

I turned around. Chet rushed down the hallway toward us and screeched to a halt.

"How is he? How's Johnny?"

"He's fine, Chet," I told him.

"He isn't fine," Chet snapped back. He looked at Dr. Brackett. "Don't listen to him, Doc. Johnny's not right. You gotta fix him."

Dr. Brackett cleared his throat. "Chet, Johnny's vital signs are all normal. He's not in any immediate danger. Now why don't you and Roy come to my office. I'd like to find out what led up to this."

"Sure thing, Doc," Chet said. "Anything to help."

Chet threw himself down on the couch in Dr. Brackett's office. I sat on the other end, as far from Chet as possible, while Dr. Brackett sat on the corner edge of his desk nearest to us.

Dr. Brackett stared at us for a moment. "When exactly did you notice a change in his behavior, Roy?"

"Today," Chet blurted. "Just a little while ago. He started acting bizarre…acting happy to see me, thanking me, complimenting everyone. And that's not even the half of it, Doc. At one point he even started to cry!"

"I see," Dr. Brackett said.

"Maybe he slipped and fell while he was mopping," Chet added.

"Roy?" Dr. Brackett said.

"He seemed a little off after our last run, but like I said, Dr. Early checked him out."

"Maybe something boinked him on the head and we just didn't see it," Chet said.

"Clearly he's not himself," I said.

Brackett's mouth twitched. "No. Clearly he's not."

"He's…Pollyanna Paramedic. You need to fix him, Doc, before he starts twirling around singing and stuff, or starts trying to hug people, or worse starts boohooing every time someone speaks to him."

Two hours later Chet was out back trying to get dates from the nurses on break and I was sitting in the Doctors' Lounge when both Dr. Early and Dr. Brackett walked in. I got up and poured them both a cup of coffee then carried them back to the table.

"How'd your surgery go?" I asked Dr. Early after I sat down.

"Good, Roy. The patient has a great chance for complete recovery."

It was quiet for a moment while they sipped on their coffee and sifted through the papers they'd set down in front of them. I could see Johnny's rather thick medical records at the bottom of Dr. Brackett's pile.

"Roy," Dr. Early began, "the tox screen came back negative, and the x-rays show no signs of injury. I've check the results of the CT Scan, and they also show no signs of injury. He exhibits no physical or neurological signs indicating any kind of head trauma, and all of his vitals remain normal."

"But?" asked Dr. Brackett.

"He's obviously not acting like himself. When I went to examine him, he thanked me for going to medical school and specializing in Neurology. He also got rather emotional in thanking me for my concern."

"Same here," Dr. Brackett said. "Not only has he been thanking me for what seems like every rescue call this month, he's extended his appreciation to anyone who walks into that exam room. The nurses are eating it up. If it wasn't for the fact that he's doing it to _everyone_, I would think he planned it to get more attention from the nurses, and maybe even a date."

Dr. Early smiled. "That thought did cross my mind."

I cleared my throat. "Are you going to keep him until you find out what's wrong with him?"

"There's no reason to keep him," Dr. Brackett said.

"What do you mean, Doc? You know he's not acting his like his usual self."

"Roy," Dr. Early said. "I discussed that last run with Johnny and he answered all of my questions without reservation. He expressed his remorse, told me he'd wished the patient had lived, but also admitted that the both of you had done everything you could for your patient given the circumstances. So, other than his effusive appreciation and thankfulness towards everyone, there's nothing that warrants a psychiatric evaluation."

"So you're going to release him?"

"I see no reason why not."

"Can you at least send him home?"

"We can't do that, Roy." Dr. Brackett held up his hand. "I know, I know. Even I admit I think his behavior is a little weird. But there's no law against expressing appreciation or thanks."

"So what do I do?" I asked, hating the feeling of helpless that was beginning to seep under my skin.

"Keep an eye on him," Dr. Early said. "And bring him back in if his physical condition begins to show signs of deterioration."

When he said that, I got the feeling that I was in for a long night.

The ride back to the station couldn't end quick enough for me. Johnny went on and on about how wonderful he thought Chet was. At first, all Chet did was tap me on my leg after every comment, and answer Johnny back with, "Uh-huh." But by the time I backed into the station, Chet was beaming from all the praise Johnny heaped on him.

And it didn't end there. Not only did Marco get praise, but Johnny ran down both Cap and Mike and started singing their praises as well. I noticed that Johnny avoided me, and that actually made me feel better because that was more like the old Johnny.

We had four runs that evening, and I have to admit, Johnny's job performance was impeccable, and I told Cap that, but that still didn't mean I was satisfied that there was nothing wrong with my partner. I did notice that while both Marco and Chet seemed to gravitate toward Johnny, both Cap and Mike kept their distance. By the time Cap called for light's out and Johnny finally crawled into his bunk and went to sleep I wasn't the only one breathing a sigh of relief at the quiet.

When I woke up the next morning Johnny was already gone from his bunk. Hope filled me that a good night's sleep had returned my partner to his pre-thankful state, but as I entered the kitchen and saw the rapt expressions on Marco and Chet's faces and heard Johnny singing their praises, I decided to forego coffee and just go polish the squad until shift-change.

I took out my frustrations on the squad, so it was gleaming by the time Johnny made his way out of the kitchen.

"Hey, Roy?"

"Yeah…"

"Is something wrong?"

"No. There's nothing wrong," I said, grabbing the can of wax.

"I'm sorry about yesterday. You wanted to talk about that run."

This was my opportunity, and I knew it. But it was ten minutes to shift change and I was tired. "No. I thought you wanted to talk about it."

"No. I didn't like what happened, but I was okay with it."

Johnny never liked it when we lost a patient. He dealt with it, just like I did, just like everyone else did, but he was _never_ okay with it.

I carefully set down the cloth, closed up the wax, then grabbed both and went to store them in the closet. He followed.

"Roy, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong." Shit. Now I was beginning to sound like the old him.

"If I've done something wrong, then I'd like to apologize."

Christ! He was driving me nuts. "You haven't done anything wrong."

"Are we still on for breakfast this morning?"

I froze. Oh. Right. He invited me for breakfast, but I'd already talked to Joanne and she was cooking me my favorite. So I invited him back to the house. But that was before he turned into Mr. Thankful. I put the paste down and closed the locker.

"Roy?"

"No telling my wife she's beautiful…?"

"You already said you'd tell her."

"And no acting funny."

"I promise. I won't act funny at all. Scout's honor," he said, holding up a peace sign with his fingers.

I shook my head. That seemed more like the old Johnny. "Fine. See you at the house," I said, and went to change out of my uniform.

An hour later as we sat at the breakfast table my wife eye's kept moving between Johnny and me.

"Is there something going on between you two? Did something happen on shift?"

"No, honey. We're fine. Shift was fine," I said quickly. "Right, Johnny?"

"Right, Roy. Um…Roy? You haven't said anything yet."

I knew what he was talking about but I pretended I didn't. "About what?"

"About what I told you in the hospital."

"Refresh my memory," I said. I knew there was no way he'd say anything. I'd already told him he couldn't.

"About Jo," he answered.

"What about me?" Joanne asked.

"Roy?" Johnny said, looking at me expectantly.

I gave him a blank look.

He leaned over towards me. "About her, and about the lasagne."

"What about me and my lasagne?" Jo asked.

When I didn't answer right away I knew from the changing expressions on Jo's face that she starting thinking the worst. "Johnny said to thank you for the lasagne. It was great," I said.

Joanne's face brightened immediately. She smiled at Johnny. "I'm glad you liked it, Johnny. It was my mother's recipe."

"What kind of meat was inside? It tasted different."

For the next twenty minutes Joanne's lasagne was dissected right down to the secret ingredient of thyme. I watched them both, leaning closer and closer, Joanne hanging on Johnny's every word just like he'd had Marco and Chet hanging on his every word, and I'd had enough.

"Time for you to go," I blurted.

Two heads turned to look at me in surprise.

"What? I'm tired. I want to go take a nap."

"Go ahead, honey," Joanne said. "We'll be quiet."

I looked pointedly at Johnny.

"Oh, you want me to leave," he said finally. As he went to stand up Jo's hand flashed out and she grabbed him by the forearm.

"Don't go," she said. "I have a few more recipes I'd like to run by you. It's okay. Roy's a heavy sleeper."

I knew if I said anything more I'd be having a fight with my wife, so I just got up and left the kitchen. I heard them laughing as I climbed the stairs and went to our room.

Afraid for the first time in my life of leaving my wife unattended with another man, I took a quick shower and headed back downstairs.

As I neared the kitchen I heard whispering and my wife's soft laugh.

"Are they supposed to feel this soft?" I heard Johnny ask.

My heart nearly flipped at Joanne's mumbled, "Mmm-hmm."

I steeled myself and flung open the kitchen door. Two heads on opposite sides of the kitchen turned and looked at me in surprise. On the table sat Joanne's recipe box with index cards lined up in neat rows next to it. Jo herself was kneeling next to the open refrigerator holding a pencil sideways between her lips. Her hands were full of butter, eggs, and milk. Johnny was over by the stove with an apron on, stirring something in a pot.

As Joanne stood, I quickly said, "Couldn't sleep."

She smiled at me. "I decided to teach Johnny how to make Apple Strudel. That way, when we have our get-togethers, he'll have something homemade to bring instead of something out of a box."

Determined to get Johnny away from my wife, I pretended to be interested in what they were doing and said, "Can I help?"

Three hours and two apple strudels later I knew that my partner was gone and something unnatural occupied his body. I dropped every hint I knew to let Johnny know he needed to leave, and he didn't seem to catch on at all. There were times when Johnny was clueless when it came to certain things, but nobody was _that_ clueless.

When Joanne finally wrapped up his take-home strudel and he made his way out the door, I finally relaxed a little…until my wife said, "Well, I don't know what's been happening in Johnny's life lately but he's sure changing for the better. Do you think he has a girlfriend?"

"I'm sure he does. Better stay away from him and not jinx it," I said, laughing so it would seem like a joke. Joanne turned and looked at me. "I think I can sleep now," I said, and took off up the stairs.

Two days later, I felt energized. Time away from the station and a lot of thought convinced me I'd overreacted to the whole situation. What did it matter if Johnny was grateful, thankful, or appreciative? He still did his job amazingly well, seemed more focused and less agitated, and seemed sincere in all of his thankfulnesses. Who was I to demand he turn back into the slightly self-absorbed, prickly, sometimes bizarre friend of last week? Wanting the old Johnny back made me crazier than the new Johnny.

Besides, in a way, his thankful attitude helped me in a roundabout way. I said thank you a few times to Joanne, complimented her on dinner, and told her I loved the way she did her hair, and by the end of the weekend she was hanging all over me. She even told me not to bother with the honey-do list because she felt like we were spending quality time together.

When I got to work I could already tell that Johnny's behavior had started not only rubbing off on the guys I worked with, but also the other shifts. I heard "thank you" and "I appreciate that" from the outgoing shift as I changed into my uniform. And when Chet walked in and said, "Good morning, Roy. Beautiful day, isn't it?" I knew that life would never be the same at the station.

Johnny was in the kitchen sitting at the table with a cup of coffee in front of him listening to Captain Stanley. I waved "hi" to him as I passed by to grab a cup and he smiled and waved back. Cap interrupted the telling of one of his greatest rescues back when he was a lineman to smile and say good morning to me, and then jumped right back into the story when Johnny asked, "So then what happened?"

I leaned against the counter and sipped my coffee and listened to the story I'd heard at least three times before.

Chet came in, then Marco. I moved over for Chet so he could grab some coffee, and not only did he make a cup for himself, but he also poured some for Marco, then took the pot over to the table and refreshed both Johnny's and Captain Stanley's cups.

I noticed that Mike was still a holdout sitting over on the sofa with the newspaper pulled up in his classic "Don't disturb me" posture.

Cap finished his story then stood up. "Good morning to all of you. I was thinking it'd be a great change of pace to have roll-call this morning over coffee. Mike, would you like to join us?"

Although Mike moved somewhat reluctantly toward the table, he took the chair beside Johnny without pulling it too far out. But still, I could tell he was still avoiding Johnny. I wondered how long that would last.

Cap thanked us for coming to work, zipped right through roll-call, divided up the list of duties, and sent us out to test hydrants. For the most part, the conversation between Johnny and I was limited to work.

After the last hydrant we got back into the squad and Johnny asked, "So how was your weekend?"

"It was great."

"Yeah? What'd you do last night?"

"Joanne and I watched King Kong together last night on the couch after the kids went to bed."

"Really? I watched it too," he said. "What's the part you like best?"

"When he picks her up," I said. "You?"

"When he puts her down," Johnny replied.

We both laughed. It was a stupid conversation, but for some reason it eased things between us.

"Hey Roy?"

"Yeah…"

"I was thinking over the weekend about…you, and Joanne, and…well…you know I love you, right?"

He stared right at me when he said that, dead into my eyes, and didn't look away. I tried to hold his look. I did. But I couldn't. Instead, I turned my head and looked out the windshield. "I know, I know," I answered inanely.

"Roy?"

"We should head on back to the station," I said, and started the squad.

His hand grasped my forearm. "Roy, could you shut the squad off for a second and just look at me?"

I gave him this long suffering sigh and snapped the key backwards. "What?"

"Please look at me…"

I forced my head to turn and stared at the spot right between his eyes.

"No. Look at _me_," he said. "Not my nose."

"Johnny…"

"I have something to say to you," he said.

"So just say it. We have work to do," I said, this time choosing his eyelashes to stare at.

"Close enough." He dropped his hand from my arm. "We've been partners for a while. And I can honestly say that I've never had closer friend than you. So I wanted to thank you, for being such a good friend."

I looked down from the lashes and into his eyes. "You're welcome. Now can we go?"

"In a minute." He cleared his throat, then said, "I've already said it once, and I'll say it again. I love you. You've meant more to me and my life than any other person with the exception of my parents and my aunt. The same goes for Joanne. And I want you to know that I would never, ever, do anything to jeopardize our friendship."

"I know that," I said. And I _did_ know that. I just forgot for a _few_ hours.

"So we're straight?" he said.

"We're straight." I reached for the ignition.

"Wait, would you like to have dinner with me?" he asked.

"You know, Johnny, that doesn't sound right when you say it like that," I said.

"Inviting you to dinner? I was taught that's the respectful way to ask. How should I say it, then?"

"You should probably include Joanne and the kids in the invitation."

"That's disrespectful to you. I'm a man. It's not my place to invite your wife, your children."

I heard the change in speech pattern and realized that I'd pretty much forgotten his heritage. Since I usually made it a point to invite _him_ to dinner, this particular subject hadn't surfaced in years. But still, he needed to _know_ how it sounded.

"Well, you sound like you're inviting just me."

"Well, I'm not."

I shrugged. "But it _sounds_ like you are. Why do you think Mike's been avoiding you?"

Johnny's eyes widened. "He thinks that I…"

"Absolutely. Positively. Look, why don't you come by the house for dinner instead."

He sat quietly for a moment then said, "Sure. Thank you for the invitation. Let's head back to the station."

The engine was gone when we got back to the station, so I figured that Johnny would stew over the new Mike situation, but instead he followed me into the kitchen, fixed us both some coffee and then indicated that we sit at the table. I hope we weren't going to continue that awkward conversation that preceded the dinner invitation.

"I had a lot of time to think this weekend, and…do you remember that run we had last week? The one with the plane?"

"You know we did everything we could under the circumstances."

"Yes, I know that." He stopped. Sat back in his chair, and drummed his fingers on the table a few times, which told me he was trying to figure out a way to tell me something I probably wasn't going to like.

"Just tell me," I said after a full minute went by.

The fingers stopped. "That man knew he was dying," he finally said.

"What makes you say that?"

"He said so."

"You know that some of them say that, and then make it to Rampart anyway."

"Yes, but I believed him."

"And that's what's behind all this…thankfulness?" I asked, trying to put things together.

"No."

"Okay so…what are you trying to say?" I asked trying to push away the frustration I felt at my inability to understand.

"If I knew, I'd say it," Johnny snapped. His face fell. "Sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. I've been trying to do better, to _be_ better."

Ah. Now we were getting somewhere. "Why? Why are you trying to do better? You were doing just fine before."

"No I wasn't. I just didn't realize it." Johnny's hand swept up into his hair and scrubbed it back. It was a tell-tale mannerism that indicated stress.

"What happened inside the plane, Johnny?"

"Roy, he kept thanking me. Over and over, he thanked me. When he first opened his eyes, he said, "I'm dying," in Spanish."

"Are you sure that's what he said?"

"Yes. I memorized that list Marco gave us."

I memorized that list too, and learned a few more for just in case. "So then what happened?

"He reached out and I took his hand, asked him his name, but he just grabbed onto me tighter and started thanking me. Over and over. He just kept saying, "John, Thank you. John, Thank you."

"He called you John?"

"Well, I told him my name."

"Was that all he said?"

"No. He also said he didn't want to die alone. Asked me to help him. He also mentioned his sister, his daughter and his son."

More words from Marco's list. "Does it bother you that you couldn't help him?"

"Of course it bothers me. But that was the situation. I had to let that go."

"So then what happened?"

"Nothing. He'd thank me, then he'd pray, then thank me."

"And then he went into cardiac arrest…" I said.

"Yes. You know the rest."

"So, you were at home this weekend…thinking about _what_?"

"My mind keeps going back to him. I wonder why he seemed so tormented."

"You think he was tormented?"

"Okay, well not tormented." He sighed. "I know I'm not explaining this very well."

"It's okay. We're available for a run. The engine's still out. There's no hurry. Take your time." I wanted to know what sent my old partner into hiding.

"He didn't know me, Roy. I was a stranger. Yet there he was, thanking me with his last breaths."

"What about that bothers you? That you were a stranger?"

He stared down into his cup. "I doesn't _bother_ me. My mind just keeps going back. I keep seeing him, the last moments of his life, thanking me."

Whatever he was trying to tell me still eluded me. "Something about that particular moment had an impact, because whether you realize it or not, your behavior changed drastically."

Johnny's head whipped up. "You mean my thanking everyone? Being grateful?"

I nodded.

"Roy, I always feel that way. Thankful. Grateful. Appreciative. I just never say it."

And that elusive point I'd been missing just became clear.

"So you just decided to say what you feel now?"

"As best I can. I just figured if this man could say it over and over, to me, a stranger, until I believed it, I could do the same. But it was hard at first. I really had to concentrate. It was like I had all these…thoughts saying, no, no, no…don't say that…don't say _that_ either. I could barely hear myself think. And when I tried to block them out and concentrate on what I was doing, it almost felt like…I wasn't comfortable in my own skin."

"Are you doing it now? Blocking these other thoughts?"

He nodded. "Somewhat. It's a little easier now since I've been practicing."

"What kind of thoughts?"

His eyes left mine for a moment, gazing downward, and his head cocked to the side as if he were listening. Then he looked up. "Things like…don't tell him this, he won't understand…and stop being stupid, you don't know what you're saying…and stop being a candy-ass… Stuff like that. But that's only because I'm talking to you about something I wouldn't normally talk about. It's different for different things."

"Like?"

"Well, like when I'm watching you rappel. I think about the rope, you on the rope, the rope snapping, what would I do if the rope _did_ snap. Those kinds of things."

"You worry. That's normal."

"It may be normal, but it isn't peaceful. So, I try to concentrate on exactly what I'm doing, or watching, or experiencing and try to _only_ concentrate on that. It seems to help, but sometimes my focus is too…too…something."

I _had_ noticed Johnny's increased focus lately. Now that I realized Johnny wasn't suffering from head trauma and wasn't having a psychotic breakdown over the death of our plane victim I was more curious about what he was talking about.

Both of us heard the Engine backing in. Immediately I thought about Mike. Johnny went out to the bay to talk to him and I stayed in the kitchen. I didn't think Mike had come around yet and I really didn't want to see Johnny get turned down. I had coffee, flipped through the paper, and checked the bulletin board.

And then we got a run. Man down.

As we jumped in the squad and headed for the address I glanced over at Johnny but couldn't tell from his benign expression whether Mike refused or accepted.

"Turn right here, Roy."

I made the turn and knew we had several blocks more to go, so I asked him, "so how did it go."

"Fine. It went fine."

That didn't tell me anything. "He said yes?"

"No. He said he couldn't."

"Did he tell you why?"

"Not really…," Johnny replied. "It's up here to the left."

I dropped the subject as we pulled up to the curb.

The second day of shift started off with a two vehicle MVA. Officer Dan Ryan was already at the scene when we arrived. He motioned the engine to pass and it moved into place, set up, and started hosing down the gasoline while Johnny and I checked out the occupants, which thankfully appeared minor except for one who needed spinal precautions.

I called for the backboard for the older woman, and Mike brought it over just as Dan, who I knew was one of Johnny's long-time friends, walked over.

"Hey Johnny, how's it going?"

Johnny smiled over at Dan. "Great! Good to see you. How's Rita?"

"Finally sleeping through the night."

"Yeah, I heard those first few weeks are rough."

"You better believe it."

"How's Paula?"

"She's doing great now that Rita's letting her get more sleep."

"You remember my Partner Roy, right?"

"Yeah. Hi, Roy."

"Hi Dan. Johnny told me about the new addition to your family. Congratulations," I said. I motioned to Mike. "Ma'am. Just hold still and let us do all the work." We shifted the backboard into place and I began tightening the straps.

"Say listen, Johnny…would you like to have dinner with us?"

"It would be an honor, Dan."

Even from five feet away, I still caught Johnny's slightly altered speech pattern. Mike and I lifted the woman out of the vehicle and shifted her onto the waiting gurney.

"I can bring dessert. I make a good apple strudel now."

"Homemade? You? Uhh…I don't think so," Dan said.

"Roy, tell him."

"He really does know how to make it. It's my wife's recipe and she taught him step by step. I had some. It's pretty good."

"Okay, fine. Bring the strudel. Seven on…"

"Tomorrow. I'm free tomorrow."

"Great. See you tomorrow. Roy, good seeing you."

"Same here, Dan," I called. "Johnny, are you done over there?"

"Yeah. She's all set," Johnny said. He walked his patient over to the ambulance and handed her over to the attendant. I waited as they lifted the backboard patient on the gurney into the back, then stowed my equipment.

"I'll follow in the squad," Johnny said.

When the ambulance pulled in to Rampart, I noticed the squad was nowhere in sight. I wasn't too concerned when Johnny didn't show up right away at the hospital; it happened sometimes.

But I decided to use the time wisely to check on the patient from the plane crash. By now I'm sure the hospital could tell us more about him. His name, where he was from. Maybe I could go with Johnny to pay our respects. I found Dixie down at the nurses station and headed her way.

"Hey Dixie," I said.

"Hi Roy. Where's your partner?"

"He's coming in the squad. Probably got hung up in traffic."

"Oh," she said. Walking over to the coffee machine she grabbed a cup, poured some in, and handed it to me.

"Hey Dixie, you remember last week we had that plane crash, and brought that patient in DOA?"

"Yes. I remember. Mr. Juan Gracias. Why?"

Mr. Juan Gracias?

Great. Now what was I supposed to do about that?

"Uh, never mind, Dixie," I said. "Don't uh…mention him to Johnny, okay?"

Dixie's eyes narrowed. "I won't say a thing. Unless he asks."

Both Dr. Brackett and Dr. Early came out of exam room two. "How's she doing, Doc?"

"We've ordered x-rays, but she's not experiencing any pain. We're optimistic," Dr. Early said.

"How's that partner of yours doing?" Dr. Brackett asked.

"Good. He's good."

"Still concerned about his behavior?"

"No. Not really. We talked."

"Oh?"

I know Dr. Brackett wanted to know why Johnny changed the way he did, but the conversation between Johnny and I was private.

"Yeah, he's good, Doc."

"Let us know if that changes, Roy," Dr. Early said.

"I will."

"Speaking of your partner," Dixie said.

I turned and saw Johnny coming down the hall. "Talk to you later," I said, nodding to the three of them. I grabbed the HT, called us in as available, and started down the hall to head Johnny off before anyone got a chance to say anything to him.

The next morning we made it through shift-change without getting a call out. I invited Johnny to breakfast, but he declined saying he needed to get down to the laundromat. I offered him the use of our washer and dryer but he said he had some other errands to run. So I told him I'd see him next shift and headed home.

My first day off I really concentrated on complimenting both my kids and my wife on everything they did, and by that evening everyone seemed to be saying extra thank-yous and generally being nicer to each other.

The second day was even better and I found myself thinking about what Johnny said about paying attention to his thoughts. Strangely enough I understood what he meant about other thoughts crowding in while trying to concentrate because as soon as I started paying attention to what I was doing, I noticed all the extra unnecessary thoughts that crowded in.

So I tried concentrating on whatever I was doing at the time, pushing those extra thoughts away. Like Johnny said, it was hard at first. But I kept at it, and by the end of the day not only did I think I had the hang of it, but I also felt a lot more peaceful. I made a mental note to make sure I thanked Johnny first chance I had.

The next morning as I headed in to work I felt relaxed and I looked forward to practicing more of what I'd been practicing all weekend.

In the locker room as I changed into my uniform I noticed that Johnny's thankful manner had spread even more. Dwyer thanked me for leaving the squad fully stocked and nicely polished. Gray thanked Mike for getting the brake pedal replaced on the engine. When I headed for the kitchen I saw Captain Stanley shaking hands with Captain Sullivan and thanking him for taking care of the station. As I grabbed a coffee I realized that I honestly liked the changes.

Johnny breezed into the kitchen. His face lit up when he saw me. "Good morning, partner."

That's when I realized that he'd been doing _that_ for a while, too. "Good morning," I answered. I set my cup down, poured him a cup of coffee, and handed it to him.

"Thank you," he said.

I let him have a few sips, and then I asked him, "So, the smiling. Is that something you're working on, too?"

His smile grew wider. He nodded. "Nothing feels better than to have someone smile at you and welcome you."

He was right and I decided right there and then to try and remember to do the same. So when Marco came strolling into the kitchen, it was two of us that smiled at him and told him good morning.

Marco's face lit up and he broke into a smile. "Good morning, you two. Great morning, isn't it?"

"Absolutely," Johnny said. He turned, grabbed a cup, poured coffee in it and handed it to Marco.

"Thanks Johnny!"

"You're very welcome. Hey Chet, good morning."

Marco and I both smiled and said good morning to Chet at the same time.

Chet's smile appeared faster than Marco's. "Good morning to you. Is there any coffee left?"

Marco quickly turned and grabbed him a cup of coffee.

This…being nice…stuff was pretty catchy.

When Mike walked in for his coffee we were all lined up against the counter. All four of us smiled and said "good morning" in unison.

He stopped. Stared at us.

Chet set his cup down and walked over to him. "Let me get you some coffee."

Mike eyed Chet suspiciously but let go of his cup.

"What's going on?" he asked. "You four sound like a glee-club."

"It's a beautiful morning," Marco said.

I thought I'd try my hand at a nice comment and said, "It's a great day to be working with such a great crew."

Johnny said, "It's great to see you, Mike."

Mike started turning red, but before he could turn around and leave, Chet hustled over and handed him his coffee. "Come talk to us," he added.

Captain Stanley walked in. Stopped. And then a huge grin spread across his face. "Were all of you hoping for roll-call in here again?"

"Roll call in here is better than out in the bay with those hats," Chet said. "I don't even think mine fits me right anymore."

"All right, gentlemen, roll call at the table in five." Captain Stanley held out his cup. "Any more coffee?"

"There's just enough for one more cup," Marco said.

Again, Chet hustled over to grab the cup.

Marco poured the last of the coffee into Cap's cup. "I'll make some more."

We all said thank you at the same time.

A few hours later Johnny followed along behind the ambulance I was in. We were transporting a diabetic victim that had run out of insulin. I knew we had to stock up on supplies and I was wondering how I could get Johnny to stay with the patient while I handled that. I wanted to keep him away from Dixie until I could tell him about Mr. Gracias.

But of course, just because I wanted that didn't mean it was going to happen. I knew that as soon as Johnny passed me in the hallway with the drug box. I didn't see Dixie manning the station, so I went ahead and followed the gurney into the exam room hoping to turn the patient over to Dr. Morton as quickly as possible.

By the time I got to the nurses' station, Johnny was already in a deep conversation with Dixie. Both of them stopped talking as I approached.

"Hey, partner. Our patient all settled in?" he asked.

"Yeah. Her vitals are normal. Dr. Morton seemed pretty confident that the crisis passed." I wanted to see if Johnny had found out about Mr. Gracias so I asked, "So what'd I miss?"

Both of them exchanged glances. Johnny shrugged. "He's going to find out anyway. Dixie wants me to talk to her student nurses."

"About what?" I asked, relieved that Gracias didn't appear to be the topic of their conversation.

"About what I've been doing. You know, the focusing, the gratitude," he said.

From the tone of his voice I guessed he thought I'd be offended I hadn't been asked to speak as well. "I think that's great, Johnny."

"You do?"

"Yes. What you've been doing has had a positive impact on a lot of people, including me."

"Oh, well, I'm glad you think so. Thank you," he said with a smile.

"Are we ready to go?"

He patted the drug box. "All filled up."

"Dixie, we'll see you later."

"I look forward to it," she said.

Back in the squad, we headed out. "Johnny…you remember that patient we lost? The one in the plane?"

"Of course, I remember him. Why?"

"They finally identified him. He was here on business from El Paso, Texas."

"Did they manage to contact his family?"

"I assumed they did."

"Okay, good."

I waited for him to ask me the man's name, but he didn't. Not once on the whole ride back. When we reached the station, I backed the squad into the bay. Johnny got out as soon as I put the squad in park and I followed him into the kitchen.

I didn't bother beating around the bush. "Did Dixie tell you his name?"

"No," he said. "I asked Dr. Brackett earlier this morning."

"Why didn't you say something?"

"Say what, Roy? That the reason the man looked so tormented was because I didn't understand he kept telling me his name?"

For a moment he looked uncertain, and I didn't know what to say.

"Besides," he continued. "It doesn't really change what happened, does it…"

"It changes your understanding of it," I finally said.

"But not the ultimate outcome. Had I not believed what I believed then, I wouldn't have decided to make a change, to better myself. I wouldn't have taken that first huge step or risked looking like a fool to everyone."

"Maybe. Maybe not," I said. "It could have happened with the next patient, or the next."

"You think I'm upset about this? Roy, I'm not upset."

"Aren't you?"

"No. I'm not. Not one little bit."

I didn't believe him. And I guess my expression told him that because he said, "Okay, maybe I'm upset just a _tiny_ bit. Knowing my perception was that skewed that I actually thought—"

"Now wait a minute—there is no way any of us, including Marco—would have ever guessed _that_ was his name. So I don't think your perception was that skewed. Even you have to admit, it's an unusual name."

"Fine. I'll admit that. But still, overall, he was the reason I finally _did_ make a change. And I'm glad I decided to change, am still changing. I like the new and improved me."

"I like the new you, too. But I also liked the old you."

"You may have liked him, but not a whole lotta other people did."

"Now you're talking crazy. Johnny, whether you change or don't change there are a lot of people out there that respect you, like you, and yes, even love you."

"Really? You think so?"

"I know so."

"Oh yeah, who?"

"What do you mean, who?"

"Who is it that likes, loves, and respects me so much?"

"Me, and every person on our shift."

"No. That's not true."

"How can you even say that? There isn't one person on this shift or on any other shift that doesn't respect you."

"Maybe on the job. But if everyone likes, loves, and respects me so much how come nobody gives me the time of day outside this job?"

"What do you mean nobody gives you the time of day? I just had you over for breakfast!"

"Right. Breakfast. You looked at me as if I were plotting to steal your wife. No. Wait. Let me finish. There are 365 days in a year. So far, in the past twelve months I've been invited to your house twice. Caps house once, for his Christmas Party. And I've been invited to have dinner at my friend Dan's house…the first time in almost three years. Four invitations in twelve months."

"Yeah, but you're always going out to party with your other friends."

"What parties? What other friends?"

"Johnny, you come to work all the time acting like you've had a wild weekend partying with your friends!"

"You think I need everyone feeling sorry for me?"

"What? No—!"

"Do you know how many people I've invited to have dinner with me in the past week? Twenty-five. Do you know how many people accepted my invitation? Zero. Nobody. Not. One. Person."

"That's not true. I accepted."

"No. You didn't. You declined, then invited me over to your place."

"What's the difference? Your place, my place? It's still dinner."

"If that was the case, then why did you decline and then issue your own invitation?"

"I didn't—It wasn't—I didn't mean—" I snapped my mouth shut. When I was sure the words would come out right I said, "I accept your dinner invitation."

"Don't bother, Roy. It's okay. I'm still working on myself." With that, he turned around and walked out the kitchen door.

I thought we both needed to cool off, so I didn't follow him. Instead, I headed into the bay, and noticed the engine sitting parked in the bay.

Shit. Shit. Shit. I hoped nobody heard—

"Roy?"

As soon as I turned and saw Captain Stanley's face, I knew he heard everything. But I was a masochist and needed to make sure. "You heard?"

"All of us heard. You didn't exactly keep your voices down."

He motioned, and I followed him into his office shutting the door behind me.

"You know, Gage has invited me more than a dozen times to his place for dinner and I've always turned him down," Cap said. "I always thought he was inviting me because he thought he had to."

Unlike Cap, I had no good reason for turning Johnny down every time he asked me to dinner, or to go out with him, or go camping with him. And I was only realizing now how often I told him no. This was the guy that considered me his best friend, that told me he loved me. Turns out I needed more work that he did.

"What do you think we should do?" Cap asked when I remained silent.

The tones saved me from looking stupid. I ran for the squad hoping I'd have an answer for Cap, and for Johnny, when we got back.

It was a five alarm fire in an apartment complex. We rolled in, pulled on our equipment, and waited for our assignments. Once we had been assigned our search area, Johnny and I headed in while the engine had her hoses rolled out.

I was carrying out my second victim, Johnny his third when the stairwell gave way. Fortunately, I was closer to the bottom steps than Johnny and was able to get my victim out and grab some help. It took a few minutes to dig Johnny and his victim out of the stairway rubble and carry them out.

We had four squads in the triage area, so after passing off Johnny's victim I was able to concentrate on him. I removed his gear, grabbed a set of vitals that weren't too shabby, and then carefully cataloged his possible injuries.

With a dark bruising to his shoulder, leg and ribs, and a deep gash along the side of his head, I think Johnny got off lightly considering the height he crashed from. I contacted Rampart, hooked up his IV, strapped him to a backboard and ran through about four sets of heavy gauze trying to stem the flow of blood from the gash.

And the whole time I worked on him I kept a firm focus on every little thing I was doing. I think it's what stopped me from panicking when he failed to regain consciousness.

I hovered over him until we caught the ambulance that took us to Rampart. In the exam room, I stood back and watched Dr. Early checked him over, but I had no intention of leaving, and nobody forced me to go.

Hours later, with the side of his head newly stitched, they admitted him and moved him to his room upstairs. That was when I went and barfed in the bathroom.

At the sink after washing the soot off my face, I told myself, "He'll be okay." And as soon as I said that…those damned voices in my head started screeching, "Are you sure?" and "Who died and left you neurosurgeon?" and "Some friend you turned out to be…" along with a few other nastier remarks that I refused to entertain.

"He'll be just fine," I insisted.

Three days later he still hadn't regained consciousness.

Dr. Early said everything looked good and it should be any time, but everyone knew there was that small possibility that Johnny would never wake up.

I just sat there, watching him. Waiting.

After mentally cataloging every single time I'd blew him off, I started in on all the times he'd helped me out and how many times I hadn't returned the favor. The guys came and went during visiting hours, and I'm pretty sure each of them were doing the same thing.

Johnny had at least fourteen dinner invitations issued since he'd been admitted, although he probably didn't hear any of them, and I wondered if that was a result of our shouting match in the kitchen, or whether they were the result of Johnny's grateful, thankful attitude. But it didn't matter. As soon as he woke up, I was going to start being a better friend.

After the sixth day I was right there with Marco praying, praying, praying. I made a whole lot of promises to God that I was probably going to have a hard time keeping, but promises were promises and if he'd just help Johnny wake up, I swore I'd keep every one of them.

By the eighth day I was beside myself. Johnny needed to wake up. Now. The longer he stayed under, the more the chance he'd stay that way. When nobody was looking I'd shake his arm, squeeze the crap out of his hand, bend over and talk loud in his ear…until Dixie caught me doing it.

By the tenth day I was put on administrative leave and ordered from Johnny's room. I didn't care. I sat in the waiting room and stared through the walls where I knew he was laying and I sent him "wake up" energy with my x-ray vision.

By the twelfth day, or was it the second day, maybe the first…I dunno…but phew…Dr. Brackett put a whammy on me shoving something into that IV that appeared out of nowhere and…wow…all them shrieking voices just shut up and there was nothing but blessed silence…and peace…and this wavy pink crap that looked like cotton candy and Johnny, like he used to be, staring down at me all frowny and disapproving like he was my mother orsomethingandthatsfunnyhahahahaha…

"Roy? Roy! Come on, Roy…wake up. There you go…let me see those baby blues of yours…"

Dixie's face came into focus.

"Well hello there. Nice to see you're finally back with us."

"Dix…" I coughed. My throat felt like sand paper. Dixie held a cup to my lips and I swallowed the few sips of lukewarm water gratefully. I stared at her while she took my pulse and finally tried again. "Dixie."

"Roy."

"What happened? Why'm'I here?" And before she could answer…everything came rushing back. I struggled to sit up? "Johnny?"

She smiled at me and glanced over to the empty bed next to me. "He's gone for tests. He'll be back later."

"He's…he's awake?"

"You don't remember?" she said. "Yes, he's awake. Woke up right after you fell on the floor. He was trying to get out of bed to treat you, but he was still hooked up to the monitors and all the alarms went off. The nurse came to check on him and found you on the floor. You upset Johnny so much we had to sedate him."

"But he's okay…?"

Dixie pursed her lips for a moment, and then nodded. "For the most part," she said. "Rest. By the time the rest of the drugs clear out of your system, he'll be back."

I don't even remember falling asleep, but I do know it was the tickling that woke me up. I groped for my face trying to get whatever it was to leave me alone and caught hold of…a finger!

My eyes snapped open. "What are you doing?" I asked my partner while I held his hand away from my face.

"Waking you up of course. Dinner is on the way. Aren't you hungry?"

I let go of his hand. "No. And…it took you long enough to wake up. Did you have to take so long?"

"I was tired, Roy. I needed my beauty rest."

"If you'd stayed under any longer, you'd have had plenty more time for beauty rest."

He just shrugged. "Doc says you have a mild concussion."

"And yet I feel no need to sleep for over a week. See how that works?" I got serious for a moment. "How do _you_ feel?"

He answered me in kind. "I have a mild head ache that won't quit, I have some serious bruises that ache when I bump them, but otherwise I feel fine. You?"

"Headache too. Feel like I'm hung over. Listen, Johnny, I was thinking…when we get out of here, it'll be nice if we spend some time together. Just you and I. You know…go do stuff together. Maybe have dinner, take in a ball game. Take time out to appreciate our friendship."

He gave me a funny look and said, "Not you too!"

"What?"

"Ever since I woke up people have been being unusually nice to me. Hugging me or shaking my hand, telling me they appreciate me and that they're thankful and grateful I woke up. Seriously, they said thankful, and grateful. And I've gotten invited to dinner so many times by so many different people that I lost count. Did I almost die or something, Roy, or do I have some strange disease Dr. Brackett didn't tell me about? Because people are treating me like I'm going to kick the bucket any second."

Before I could answer, Chet, Marco, Mike and Captain Stanley walked into the room smiling.

"Oh thank god you two are awake," Chet said. "Johnny, I'm so happy to see you!"

"It's almost like being in the twilight zone," Johnny said under his breath.

"You two really gave us a scare," Marco said. "I'm so thankful that both of you are okay."

"Yes, all of us are grateful," Captain Stanley added. "And when you two are released, we're taking you to dinner to show you both how much we appreciate you."

"Our treat," Mike added.

"See what I mean, Roy?" Johnny said. "That's just crazy."

The End.


End file.
